It was cold as I stepped off the airplane in that small foreign airport, so many miles from home and not a plan, save for you.

You were an adventure, insight into a foreign world with a warm couch to sleep on. A world I had spent so many years learning about.. planning for.

An adventure with a heart wide open and arms firmly closed, cobblestone streets ancestors had walked upon and a quiet corner of a once booming shipping port.

There was a long bus ride with anxious questions as friends long been separated chatted, and the grand tour through old town with a heavy bag and just a little bit of complaining.

Awaiting at the airport pacing back and forth, I wondered where she was. My phone was expired, no money in my pockets, not even an address to go to.

Biezpiens is a traditional dish. It was necessary, so was the fresh selection of strawberries at the old farmers market. And a little slice of chocolate, traditional chocolate.

There was a dog; a big brown Lab/Sharpei mix with big ears and bigger paws. She was an anxious dog, the kind that pulls at the leash every step of the way. Leaves, sticks, strange smells, other dogs…

Twice a day I’d walk her through the retired graveyard, searching every gravestone for recognizable names. Never found any.

Ever step I felt like I could see horses pulling buggies, old top hats and pointed mustaches. The signs of old Baltic Ritterschaft nobility.

I’d find new paths every day I’d walk the city streets. New buildings that were old buildings, new corners of the city that were old corners of the city. I’d learned cobblestones made quite a racket when car tires roll over them.

I left there in love. In love with a city, in love with a way of life. In love with a style. In love with a woman who did not want to love me.

I left there with a hug from her and a lick from the dog for a long full bus ride. The whole way to the foreign airport early that morning I stood with my bags about my shoulders, fighting the woes of leaving my heart behind and the dizziness of hardly a breakfast in my belly.

Of course the only thing I could think of was the laughing while smiling.

Did you reserve the right to dance
Alone along the south of France
I parked my boat and let it float
About the bay beyond the moat

Where mysteries remain
Amongst flowers and wild dames
I pull a cloak about my shoulders
Wrapped around my full mane
But can not moonlight keep me sane
When wild animals fight their bane
Surely I have myself some tame
Innocence that allows me to remain

And up and up and up we go
Falling down like flakes of snow
It’s letting go that pulls me up
Where rapid breath removes my glow

Pull at me and listen closely to my hum
I rock to a rhythm, smooth back and forth
Like well worn arches out on the porch
A motion that wears deep through my history
Bled out my pores of hairy callused skin
Drug over years of toil and pressures
Mechanically pushing back daisies
That dust the path of the past

My story runs deep, like the mighty Fraser Canyon
Rocky cliffs and small tufts of grass
Where wild big horn sheep roam the hills free
And Native Americans corral beautiful salmons
Into their chutes in the fall for smokings
A lunch for colder seasons ahead
Natural processes retained for years

I’ve taken mighty rapids, class 5 with no portage
Straight on with my birch bark canoe
I’ve trapped many animals: foxes, cougars, and rabbits
Some I’ve let go, others I’ve tanned to keep me warm
Through colder seasons, six feet of white snow
And after the deep winter I’ve found high plains
I’ve run wild and free with jubilant glee
Roaring my wild head like a stallion: head of the pack
Then in my moments of charge and conquering
I’ve been run off the edge like a wild buffalo herd
Sent to my death in a natural community grave
One houndred and fifty feet down for a rocky death

My minds eye has seen a crowd gather around
Watching while others start to throw their stones
The crow has brought fortune to the lands I’ve crawled over
Where feathers flow downward into hands of the elders
Placing their wisdom upon whispers into the wind
Which I’ve caught with long glances, two eyes half closed
But my third eye, wide open and listening
For the words spoken into the wind

There have been days, with un-clouded sun
Beating down at my back as I push dirt to and fro
I’ve brought life to earth: strong spruce and tall fir
Long have I pushed a farm’s herd in early spring
Rain has fallen, in sudden flash thunderstorms
Flooding my lands all around I’ve been harvesting
Taking away my stronghold, my safety and security
Plummeting me to my natures own demise,
Struggling away at the fast currents I’ve been
Pulling at my senses and drowning in murky waters

Where long have I been lost out at sea
I’ve found one strong hand that’s pulled me out to safety
Laying me flat out gurgling with the breakers
But upon this life raft, this boat of grace
I’ve spoken with the winds speaking back out at me
It is not for the weather that I’ve suffered so
But from my own intuition I’ve led onward ho!
Aghast, the disbelievers have stepped back in horror
Striking fear of the lord in me with forced penance
I’ve cried long and hard for my own forgiveness
But left out details and implications of all of my dirty deeds

Tomorrow I shall build up around in the dirt all around
A castle so mighty, it will sharpen my eye
I won’t burn bridges others so voluntarily fry
For with help it is forward in direction I fly
Begin it with laughter, in good tune does fast work go
And I shall remember as it’s forever where I’ll die

I woke as I usually did
Tightened up my roller blades
And went about my route
Delivering papers
That was my chore
I was an older paper boy
Paper man if you will
We had exchanged glances
On and off regularly
She fancied my roller blades
7016 at the top of the hill
She was a young retired skater
Whose quirkiness attracted me
We started to talk
More as the days went by
I got to know her
Comfortable in her ways
She was interested
In a twenty something year old paper man
Not much older herself
It wasn’t my only job
It was a side thing for sure
But it was what it was
Which brought me to her
We flirted, why not?
Enjoying it immensely
But the professional I am
I had a route to deliver!

I remember one time
She asked me to help her with her hair
She had fascinating clamps
To hold her hair in there
They were clips
That were held with bolts
Needing to be tightened
Her hair was parted down the middle
Strictly, thin hair
Cut a few inches above her shoulders
Dyed, always a new catchy colour
Two short and cute pig tails
Which she spun in towards themselves
In an upside down heart
Then up the middle
Were they were clamped into place
Contact is a beautiful thing
A heart racing against my heart
I felt it, she felt it

She invited me over one day
She was aggressive like that
Which explains why she was
So comfortable topless
I was shy, what do you do?
I’m not used to that
Try to fit in, just act casual
Tea was on the menu
I like mine with sugar
We talked and flirted
An old china cup was delivered
Her house smelled like lilacs
She was pure coconut with passion
Dancing about the room
Graceful steps was dancing to me
Telling me of stories she had once lived
I leafed through the books on her shelf
Many I had read, bookworm I am
I was in a corner
Trapped without chains
She wandered over to me
She was topless, of course
Big black panties
The kind that come up past a bellybutton
But, underneath them she had on a thong
As she wandered over to me
She was fumbling in them
Head cranked around, hands all jumbled up
Confusion on her face
With me watching unashamed
She turned around
And pushed her bum into my crotch
It was more like her bum
Into my thighs
She was a shorter, fiery girl
Fumbling with her thong
Acutely pointing her bum
And asked me if I could help her
Straighten out her panty line

There is something about that first moment
When your hand touches the skin of a lover
Especially around their hips… a soft stomach
Something magically innocent in those moments
Enough to erupt a thousand spitting volcanoes
And tingle the tips of toes with an excited sensation
Quivering the knees while reaching out for more

I roll around waiting for that shit to hit my head
Spinning relentlessly in this uncomfortable bed
I know not what has passed through this body
Just fumes and discarded waste left now
Memories that don’t lead to filled in blanks
It’s crushing, this deep sadness that spins around
The scribbled out pages of stunted thoughts
I work at pulling out words, but only vowels fall out
Shifting around uneasily like a shy cowboy
Fumbling with vices picked up from long hours
Out on the range with thoughts and dreams
I roll around waiting for that shit to hit my head